


don't you know I want it all?

by monopolizers



Category: Little Mix (Band), Rihanna (Musician)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 00:45:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6173311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monopolizers/pseuds/monopolizers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>She couldn't stop thinking about the way Rihanna had looked alone on that stage. Larger than life, outlined in neon, skin glowing under the white. Powerful, commanding. Like every dream Leigh-Anne'd ever woken up from, flushed and panting.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Leigh-Anne and Rihanna after the BRITS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't you know I want it all?

**Author's Note:**

> usually put notes at the end but v important: [Leigh-Anne's dress she wore out that night](http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2016/02/25/07/3189B3E100000578-0-image-a-12_1456386899830.jpg) and also [Rihanna's BRITs performance](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SQWqksdE4gw)
> 
> stuff not in the tags: in this fic Leigh-Anne broke up w Jordan a few months before the BRITs just for...my fic purposes & therefore neither of them are attached. uh and...I think that covers it? if you have any specific questions please ask in the comments & I'll do my best to help you out.

It was only in the bathroom at the club that Leigh was finally able to stop and take a breath. She could still feel the heavy, pounding thump of the bass through the walls, but she was--finally--alone. Her head was spinning. The night had been something of a blur; of course, there had been the performance itself, and then the rest of the awards, and then the first afterparty she'd gone to with Louis and Perrie. In the car Louis hadn't been able to stop showing them pictures of Freddie. His hands were shaking; it seemed like a compulsion. 

She checked her lipstick in the mirror and wondered what it was like to be away from your child for the first time. To have a child. Jordan had wanted kids too; she'd thought she wasn't ready for them. She leaned a little too far forward and stumbled a bit on her heels. She hadn't drank that much, she'd thought, but she also hadn't had that much to eat tonight; she bit her lip, an old trick she'd used since sixth form to check how far deep she was. She could feel the sharp imprint of her teeth, but not too much. There was a raw place in her mouth where she'd accidentally bit her teeth when Rihanna said hi to them after the performance. And _that_ was--the thing of the night. Had to have been. For some reason it worked her up more than the performance. She'd thought she was going to cry when she'd talked about it later. She liked to perform because she liked the eyes on her. But to know one pair of those eyes was Rihanna's--and that _Rihanna knew her_ \--did something more for her than anything else that night.

She couldn't stop thinking about Rihanna's performance. She'd gotten to see it, too, from her table. Rihanna could command a room with a single sway of her hips. Leigh-Anne didn't have that kind of power. She was good at what she did, but she was better at it with other people. But she couldn't stop thinking about the way Rihanna had looked alone on that stage. Larger than life, outlined in neon, skin glowing under the white. Powerful, commanding. Like every dream Leigh-Anne'd ever woken up from, flushed and panting.

She was working herself up like this. She scrubbed at her cheeks; she could feel the heat rising to them and wondered if she'd be red in the pap shots. She leaned closer to the mirror to check, but overbalanced and almost fell, her entire body pressed awkwardly against the counter and the mirror. When the door opened, she sprang up and overbalanced the other way, almost falling on her arse. In embarrassment, she turned around, only to meet the cool, amused gaze of Rihanna Fenty. 

"You okay?" she said. Leigh-Anne's cheeks flamed. She wondered if she'd turned red or if, by some grace of God, she'd managed to keep her colour. She nodded. She wanted to say something, but she couldn't think of what to say. 

"Leigh, right?" Rihanna was saying something to her! Rihanna _did_ know her name!

"Leigh-Anne," she said, voice miraculously level. "But yeah. Um. And you're, I mean--you're Rihanna, obviously." 

"Obviously," Rihanna agreed. She looked amused. "I think I need to squeeze past you, if that's okay. Someone spilled a drink on me." She held up her hands. Leigh-Anne realised she was standing in front of the only sink and leapt aside with alacrity. 

"Thanks," Rihanna-- _Rihanna!!!_ \--said. 

Leigh-Anne thought she ought to leave now, before things got any more embarrassing for her, but instead of turning and leaving she said, "Your performance was amazing." She should have shut up there but something about the proximity of Rihanna's body to hers made her act stupid. "Like, I love Work, and SZA was so good, and you're just--you're really amazing. You're so good. I love watching you." Horrified by her verbal diarrhoea, she made to leave. She always did this. It was too much like that time at Simon's house.

"Where are you heading to?" Rihanna said from the sink. 

"I mean, just--outside--I--my friends--?" 

"Do you want to stick with me? Chat a bit?" Rihanna grabbed a paper towel and dried her hands off. There was something curious about them--they were beautiful, long and shapely, but her fingernails were very short and well trimmed. 

"I do!" She could feel the heat flushing her face again. She probably looked ridiculous. At least her makeup was okay. Her hands felt empty; she wanted to text Jade or Jesy but she didn't want to pull her phone out in front of-- _Rihanna_! What if Rihanna thought she was being rude?

Rihanna laughed. She had such a pleasant speaking voice. It sounded, surprisingly, a lot like her singing voice. "Okay, how about this?" she said. "Give me your number, and I'll text you where I'm staying. I'm heading out soon. Whenever you head out, you tell your car to come to my place. Okay?" 

Leigh-Anne thought she'd heard wrong for a moment over the blood pounding in her head. "What?" she said, stupidly. "Uh--erm--"

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Rihanna said. It took Leigh-Anne a moment to place the expression on her face; uncertainty looked wrong on her. 

"I want to!" It came out probably a bit more shrilly than warranted. But she handed her phone over dutifully and let Rihanna text herself from it. And now she had _Rihanna's_ number. This night kept getting better and better.

 

*

 

Two hours later, she was in the back of a car, staring at a text with a hotel name and room number, and increasingly unsure about what had actually happened in that bathroom. At the time it'd seemed too good to be true, and now it seemed absolutely too good to be true. She hadn't told Perrie or Louis or anyone about what had happened in the bathroom. She didn't know why; normally she told Perrie at least almost everything. There had been something about it, though--the heat of Rihanna's gaze and that secret held between them--that she'd wanted to keep to herself. She'd managed to bow out early by claiming she was tired. Something on Louis' face said he didn't believe a word of it, but that didn't matter--Perrie'd bought it, anyway. When she'd left they were doing shots and dancing.

She wondered what was going on between them. She knew they'd been talking. Their betrayal, their grief was symmetrical. But where they were in life--that was different. It was very different. And Leigh liked Louis enough, but she didn't trust him. She didn't trust that he'd treat Perrie's heart the way it needed to be treated.

The problem was that no one ever said what they thought. She shifted and her legs slipped across the leather in the back seat of the car. She'd shaved just an hour before the performance, but she could tell she'd need to shave again. Perrie never had that problem but when she and Zayn were together Leigh would hang out with Doniya sometimes and they'd talk about it. She'd liked Doniya a lot. Doniya had understood--the problems with Jordan, the problems with Perrie. She'd probably have understood these problems with Louis, too. No one ever said what they thought and it got them tangled. They trapped themselves. That was what Jordan did to her and what Zayn did to Perrie. The different was her breakup hadn't played across ten million tabloid covers. She wondered if it'd be weird to ask Perrie for Doniya's number. She had no idea if they were still talking. 

She was just thinking in circles to distract herself. She wished she were sober enough to drive at night. She liked looking out the window at every other car, at their serious faces, at their strange dancing, their muttering to themselves when they thought no one else was watching. Sometimes Leigh-Anne wondered what she looked like when she didn't know anyone was watching. 

She was thinking in circles because she was worried; she was worried because this entire night seemed to be like a dream come true and of course the best way to puncture a dream is to show up at a superstar's hotel at 3 AM and ask to be let in and have a drink thrown at your face. Not that she thought Rihanna would do something like that, but she would have preferred a drink to being laughed at, or worse, looked down upon. People in this industry could be enormously sneering when they wanted to be. Simon was like that, but then he'd never really liked them in the first place. 

It didn't matter. She was here because she'd been invited. She had the text as proof. She rolled down the partition. "Um, listen," she said, and the driver turned back. She didn't know him. She missed her regular, an older man named Scott. 

"Yeah?" He was brusque.

"Would you mind if--is it okay if you could wait just a couple of minutes when we get there? I'll text you if I'm not coming down." 

"Sure thing, miss." She didn't know why she was so afraid that he might have said no. 

All too soon they arrived and then she was stepping out, shivering in the cold, and then heading up the hotel steps and into the lobby and into the elevator. In the mirror she could see the reflection of her dress. It had looked good at the club, she'd thought, but now she was wondering if it had just been the setting and the alcohol. No wonder the people at the desk had given her strange looks. Though--that might have been for something else. She didn't like bringing it up around the girls but sometimes things did happen to her for other reasons. She could talk about it with Jade sometimes but Jade didn't really get all of it. No one would look at Jade like that for coming into a hotel lobby at 3 AM. No one would look twice at Perrie. It was just her. She bit her lip and watched the mirror-her mimic it. At least she looked all right. She shook her head and watched her braids fly around. She got so melancholy when she was alone and drunk. She pinched herself and said aloud, "You're going to chat with Rihanna!" It echoed a bit and made her sound ridiculous, but it lifted her spirits.

Finally the elevator dinged and she could exit and walk down the hall. Her heels tottered a bit as they sank into the plush carpet. She and the girls got to stay at really nice hotels, really posh hotels, but this was something else entirely. Rihanna's room was at the very end of the hall. She rang the bell--there was a _bell!_ next to the door and waited.

After a moment, the door opened. Rihanna was on the other side, holding a glass of champagne and wearing a tank top and sweatpants. She smiled. Leigh-Anne thought her knees might give out. She smiled back.

 

*

 

Half an hour, seated on a couch inside Rihanna's suite, she was rather tipsy again on two glasses of champagne and giggling as Rihanna told a story about the time someone she wouldn't name had stopped in the middle of their having sex, asked why she hadn't shaved her legs, and then left, claiming it had turned him off.

"He didn't!" Leigh-Anne said. She'd forgotten all about her own stubbly legs. She nearly choked on the champagne.

"Yes! He did! Can you believe it?" Rihanna rolled her eyes extravagantly and tipped back the rest of her glass of champagne. She'd probably had the same amount to drink as Leigh-Anne, but she seemed more collected. Of course she did--she was _Rihanna_. "That's why I don't date anymore. Guys. They are totally useless and I don't have the time." She paused a moment, sharp eyes regarding Leigh-Anne over the lip of her glass. "What about you?"

Leigh-Anne swallowed. The question seemed loaded for some reason. She drained her glass and said, "I broke up with my--boyfriend a few months back. He wasn't--it wasn't working." 

"Oh, poor girl." Rihanna patted her knee. Her hands were dry and light. Her fingers were finely shaped and long, slim. "Did I stop you from getting over him tonight, then? Have you gotten back out there?" 

"No, I--" Leigh-Anne could feel the heat in her cheeks again. She looked down out of embarrassment. She talked about this kind of thing all the time with the girls, but it wasn't really the same thing, was it? Talking about it with one of the most beautiful women alive? "I mean--yeah, I have, a bit. I don't really know if there was much to get over, by the end, like? And I'm not really the casual type, usually. And--like you said. I just don't really want to be into guys right now." She nearly swallowed her tongue. Did that sound like--Hopefully Rihanna hadn't caught on to the meaning. 

"Don't want to be into guys?" At some point, Rihanna had shifted closer to her on the couch. Her hand was stroking Leigh-Anne's knee very lightly, fingers drawing patterns through the mesh of the dress. It wasn't unwelcome, not at all, and it gave Leigh-Anne that shivery, floating feeling she got whenever someone made it clear that they liked her. She hadn't felt that in a while. "Have you been into girls, then?" It was like there was an electric snap in the room: there was no mistaking what that might mean. She looked up to meet Rihanna's smirk and felt her pussy clench, blood rushing to her face. Those fingers kept circling her knee and then moved higher, to her thigh. 

"Um," she said, fighting to keep her voice steady. "Yeah. I--I've gotten off with mates of mine before. Friends. Girl--friends." It came out rushed.

"Girlfriends?" It was slow, heady, the same way Rihanna's hand was sitting, like a firebrand, on Leigh-Anne's thigh. "This is a really nice dress, by the way. You have a great body for it." 

Leigh-Anne didn't think it was possible for her face to feel any hotter, but there was apparently still blood in her body that wasn't in her cheeks. She licked her lips, and didn't miss the way Rihanna tracked the movement. "Thanks! Thank you so much. Uh, girl friends. Yeah. Like, I mean, we used to practice kissing before--we had--boyfriends--" It came out strangled, because Rihanna had leaned all the way over her to set the champagne glass in the hand not on Leigh's thigh on the table behind her. She could smell Rihanna's _hair_ \--it smelled like something fresh and clean, not a cloying chemical scent like she'd expected for some reason. That was what everyone always got Leigh-Anne when they got her scents. Heavy things, stuff with "tropical" in the title. But she liked clean scents. Cotton, linen. The way Rihanna's hair smelled.

When Rihanna settled back down, she was smiling like a panther. The whites of her teeth were showing just behind her lips. It was unbearably attractive. She'd moved her hand back to her own lap, and Leigh-Anne felt the loss acutely; the warmth was leeching from her. "Kissing practice? I did that too. And other things, you know."

"Yeah." Her mouth was dry. Without looking at Rihanna, because she knew she'd lose all her courage if she did, she poured herself another glass, drained it, and set it down on the table. Then she turned so that they were sitting almost facing each other. She wove her fingers together and put them in her lap to stop her fidgeting. "Yeah. I think--I probably liked it a bit more than my other friends." 

That got her a real smile, a big one, which felt better than anything had felt that entire night. "You did? What did you do?" 

She put her hands to her cheeks to cool herself down and to hide her face before she could answer. "I--um. We, like--we--. We did a lot of, uh, we--kissed, and we did--other--we did. Uhm." She could feel herself sweating. Normally she was better at this, but normally she was a bit more--in charge. It felt good to have someone else directing this, to have someone else's attention on her entirely, and even better to have that person be _Rihanna_ , but it was also--a _lot_ of pressure. She braced her arms on her knees and hid her hands in her face for a moment. She felt a touch on her shoulder and looked up. Rihanna'd moved even closer. 

"You don't have to say anything much," she said softly. Leigh-Anne could feel her body heat through her sheer dress. There was something about it, Rihanna this dressed down and casual while she was still wearing what she'd worn out. "You can just say yes or no. For example, when she touched you here--" and she put a hand on Leigh-Anne's thigh--"did you like it?" 

"Yes," Leigh-Anne said. Her voice was very quiet. She could barely hear herself. But Rihanna smiled at her like she'd won something. 

"Good girl," she said. She moved the hand up to Leigh Anne's waist. "Did you like it when she did this?" And she leaned in and kissed Leigh-Anne once, a soft press of lips. Leigh-Anne's head was spinning. Her breath was coming faster.

"Usually--it was for a bit longer," she managed to say, and met Rihanna halfway this time. 

 

*

 

The thing was it'd been such a long time since she'd kissed a girl. Sometimes Jade and Perrie would kiss a bit if they got too drunk, but Jesy never partook and Leigh-Anne had managed to escape too. She and Jordan had had a few threesomes but those had always felt a bit like she was on stage. Like he wanted to watch more than he wanted her to like it. This, though--this was for her. She moaned into it and Rihanna's hand tightened on her waist. That was good, that felt good--to know she wasn't the only one affected. Not that she didn't think both of them weren't enjoying it but it was so unlike her to be so affected by something like this. She felt unmoored, off balance. She just wanted Rihanna to call her a good girl again. To know that she was good.

Rihanna pulled back. Her breathing was a bit ragged, and she thumbed at the corner of Leigh-Anne's mouth. "Your lipstick is smudged," she said, smirking. Leigh-Anne could feel her pussy clench at the touch and the implication of it. "What else did you like?" As Leigh-Anne opened her mouth to say something, she had no idea what, Rihanna shook her head. "No. Let me find out. It's more fun that way." She kissed her again, bit at her lower lip gently, nudged her mouth open until the kiss was wet, open-mouthed, filthy and hard. Her hands strayed up, caressing Leigh-Anne's breasts for a moment before tugging unexpectedly at her nipple. Leigh-Anne gasped, and it broke the kiss; she could feel Rihanna's smile against her face. She put an unsteady hand out; it reached Rihanna's shoulder, gave her grounding as Rihanna began to kiss down her neck. She couldn't remember if Rihanna had been wearing lipstick, wondered if her own lipstick was smudged on Rihanna's mouth. If she'd have it smudged on her neck. She had no idea how this was happening. Her cunt was throbbing. She shifted uncomfortably, trying to relieve the pressure between her legs; it made Rihanna pull back.

"Are you okay?" she said, raising an eyebrow. Leigh-Anne nodded. Her hand moved from Rihanna's shoulder to Rihanna's waist. She wanted a kiss, and when Rihanna leaned forward her wish was granted. She thought she'd be happy if tonight ended with them making out on the couch like this, but it seemed Rihanna had other plans when she pulled back. They looked at each other wordlessly for a moment. Rihanna looked calm and collected despite the lipstick smudged around her mouth, her hair tangled where Leigh-Anne had mussed it. Leigh-Anne thought she probably looked a mess. She was bad at pulling herself together during sex; she fell apart easily. It was hard not to be vulnerable like that. She felt vulnerable already. "Okay," Rihanna said. She trailed a hand up Leigh's arm, and Leigh-Anne could feel goosebumps rising in its wake. "What else have you done?" 

"Um--" She licked her lips. It was hard to think. "What do you mean?" 

"With girls. What have you done with girls?" 

What hadn't she done with girls? The regular stuff girls did, she thought. Not a lot of toys or anything but those were hard to get your hands on when you were a teenager, and Jordan hadn't really liked her using toys very much. "Just, just the regular stuff." 

Rihanna stood up suddenly, and Leigh-Anne stared up at her before she was tugged up too. They stood facing each other. Leigh-Anne was still wearing her heels for reasons she couldn't remember now, and with them she was as tall as Rihanna. A strange feeling. She kicked them off without thinking and was rewarded with a smile when she was left staring up a bit. 

Rihanna reached behind her and picked up the champagne bottle and the two glasses; her hands were rather dexterous. "I think we'll be more comfortable on the bed," she said. It wasn't really a statement, though; the curve of her mouth said it was a question, and the way her body was positioned, Leigh thought, was meant to give her an out. 

Instead of answering, she took Rihanna's free hand. They walked to the bedroom together. 

 

*

 

The air was charged but they sat on the bed together facing each other as if what had happened in the suite living room never existed. Leigh-Anne drank a bit more champagne. She couldn't stop looking at Rihanna's slender wrists, the small curve of bone in them. The elegant lines of her fingers. She realised why Rihanna might have had short nails and could feel the heat rising to her face; she drank some more. 

Finally Rihanna said, eyes intent on her face, "What else have you done?" 

Leigh-Anne couldn't think of what to say for a second. The gaze unnerved her. She liked to perform but this felt different somehow. More revealing. She licked her lips and said, "I, uh--" and couldn't say any more. Rihanna put a hand on her knee; the weight was warm and calming. 

"Okay." Rihanna laughed a bit. "Let's try something else. What do you like?"

She looked up. "What do you mean?" Instead of answering, Rihanna kissed her. Her mouth was cool and sweet from the champagne. She got a bit lost in the kiss; when it ended, she couldn't remember what to say. 

"Did you like that?" 

"Yes." Her heart was hammering. 

"You like kissing girls." Not a question, but Leigh-Anne wanted to answer anyway.

"Yes." 

Rihanna's voice was like stones dropping into a pond. "What else. Do you like?" Each word left ripples behind. Leigh-Anne's tongue froze and then unfroze.

"I liked--I like. Touching them." Her own voice was stilted. 

"Where do you like touching them?" This as Rihanna's hand slid further up her thigh. She could feel Rihanna's palm against her skin through the mesh of her dress. 

"I like their--I like--" She couldn't say _breasts_ and felt her face heat up. Rihanna laughed.

"You like my tits?" she said casually. She took Leigh-Anne's hand and shaped it around her own, slid it up her waist and under her shirt. She wasn't wearing a bra and with a shock Leigh-Anne could feel the warm, bare skin of her breasts, the puckered point of her hard nipples. Without thinking, she pressed her other hand between her legs to relieve the pressure, and Rihanna tutted at her. She took their joined hands away and pulled Leigh-Anne's other hand away from her. "No touching unless I say," she said. Her voice had dropped a few tones, warm and intimate, and Leigh-Anne's wrist twitched. Rihanna tutted again. She took both of Leigh-Anne's wrists and pressed them behind her back. She didn't say anything but the message was clear: _keep them there_. Leigh-Anne interlaced her fingers behind her back. She could feel how fast her breath was coming. Her hairline was prickling with sweat. 

Rihanna pulled off her shirt. She had nipple piercings; Leigh-Anne had never seen them before. She wanted very badly to put her mouth to use, but she didn't know if she was allowed until Rihanna's hand came up to cup the back of her head. Then Leigh-Anne kissed the side of her neck, slowly; kissed down her collarbone, lingered at the divot between her breasts. Rihanna's hand tightened in her braids, but she didn't say anything. It wasn't until Leigh-Anne daringly sucked a mark into the line of her tan right at her breasts that she sighed audibly, and then when Leigh-Anne kissed at her nipple, she said, "Good," very quietly, and Leigh-Anne drew in a shaky breath. Her pulse was punding.

The metal of the piercing was warm and fascinating under her tongue. When she licked at it, and then pushed her tongue against it, she could feel Rihanna pull at her hair. It felt painfully good, and she whimpered under it, the rush of adrenaline it brought. She sucked and then licked again, until Rihanna was jerkily pushing her head over to her other nipple, already drawn up in a tight point. She could hear a sharp intake of breath when she sucked at it, and then a short, cut-off sound when she pulsed her tongue against it again and again in a tight rhythm. She thought she could stay here forever, like this; she wondered how it looked, the two of them from above, the black bra and pants she was wearing showing through her dress, Rihanna's sweatpants a cool grey contrast against them. Her hands didn't even ache behind her back. 

She wanted more, though. She wanted to put her mouth--other places. Before she could turn thought into action, she was being dragged up and then kissed. Their bodies were pressed together fully; she could feel parts of Rihanna's skin against her own, through the strange flimsy barrier of the dress. She was sweating under it. Somehow that made it better. By now, she knew, she'd soaked through her pants. She wanted to come really badly; but she wanted to make Rihanna come more, and with that in mind she broke away from the kiss, pressed her mouth down Rihanna's throat, between her breasts, onto her smooth, flat stomach, and then slid off the bed and onto her knees, face pushed into the crease of Rihanna's hip and thigh. She didn't want to look up in case she'd done wrong. Instead she pressed her mouth to the inside of Rihanna's thigh and closed her eyes. 

For a moment there was nothing. Then she could feel a hand stroking her hair, running down her back, and going back up again. It was non-sexual, at least until Rihanna said, softly, "Good girl," and Leigh-Anne whimpered and clenched her thighs together to lessen the throbbing between her legs. She wanted to take Rihanna's sweatpants off but she didn't know if she was allowed. Her hands were still behind her back, fingers laced together. They didn't hurt at all.

When Rihanna's hand left her hair and pushed her back a bit, she didn't understand for a moment, until she realised Rihanna's hips were lifting and she was pushing her sweatpants out of the way, down to her ankles. Then she was there, spread fully, wet and glistening. Leigh-Anne leaned forward, eager to taste, before a hand on her head stopped her. She made a questioning, unsure noise.

"Not yet," Rihanna said. "Did you do this? With any girls?" Leigh-Anne nodded. "Did you like it?" A joking question, it had to be, since Leigh-Anne was panting for it. She nodded anyway. "What did you like about it?" 

She had to take a moment to collect herself to be able to answer without begging. "I liked--I liked how it felt." 

"What did it feel like?" 

"Like I was making her feel good. I liked that." 

"Did it make _you_ feel good?" She didn't answer that. She couldn't. Then another question: "What else did you like?" A pause. "Did you like how it tasted?" 

She had no idea how to respond. She didn't have to because a moment later Rihanna was reaching down between her own legs. She stopped at her clit a moment, circled it with her fingers, hips hitching up as if she couldn't help it; then she was dipping a finger, and then two, into that space in herself between the folds, where she was most visibly wet. When she drew them out, her fingers were shiny; she petted them around Leigh-Anne's lips and then nudged her mouth open, letting her suck at them.

As it turned out, Leigh-Anne _did_ like the taste; she moaned eagerly, took Rihanna's fingers deep until they pressed at the back of her throat. She could smell the musky scent of her arousal and it turned her on; she wanted her mouth in that dark, wet space; she wanted to get lost in it. She looked up as Rihanna's fingers pet her tongue and then slipped out of her mouth, leaving a trail of spit behind. 

"That's so good," Rihanna said. Her voice was very low. Her other hand brushed Leigh's hair and then the back of her neck, drawing her closer. "You want to taste?" Leigh-Anne said nothing, just leaned forward, breathed in that heady scent, the dark wetness of it, and then turned her head and kissed Rihanna's inner thigh. 

There was a sticky residue left there, her slick leaking down from her cunt, and Leigh-Anne licked it carefully, turned to the other side and did the same. She couldn't hear Rihanna's breathing change above her, didn't hear it until she moved up a bit more and kissed at the crease between her pussy lips and her thigh. The skin there was smooth, probably waxed. Rihanna's hand came down to guide her face to her cunt, that hot, slick place between her legs, pulsing with life, and at the same time her thighs tightened a bit around her ears. 

Leigh-Anne used to feel trapped when Jordan did that, but here it felt right. On her knees, hands behind her back, face buried in Rihanna's cunt. It _felt_ right. Because she liked this, to be good, to give pleasure, to make people feel good and to know that it was because of her. To have someone's attention focused entirely on _her_ , not on Perrie or Jesy or Jade. Right now it was about her. Like everything she did was because someone else wanted her to, and she couldn't do it wrong, and she couldn't disappoint them. Just doing it was good enough. 

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, and then opened them and laid a wet, open-mouthed kiss across Rihanna's cunt. She could taste how wet she was, the scent of it bursting on her tongue. She kissed again, flattened her tongue and dragged it up and then down. This probably wasn't doing much for Rihanna, but it was for her. She could barely breathe for how much her head was spinning. She could feel the hard, tight nub of Rihanna's clit against her tongue, and it made her pussy clench so hard she thought she might actually come untouched. 

"Don't fool around," Rihanna said. Her voice was tight. Leigh-Anne felt her mouth flood with saliva. Rihanna's hand pressed her up, guiding her mouth to her clit, and Leigh-Anne took the hint. She sucked at it, licked at it, wished she could use her fingers until Rihanna's thighs pressed around her head and all she could feel, all she could taste, was the dark raw taste of Rihanna's slick on her tongue. A moment later she was released. Both of them were shaking. 

Rihanna took a deep breath. Leigh-Anne looked up, could see the sweat beading along her hairline. She could feel it prickling at her own hairline, behind her knees, under her arms. She felt a bit wrung out. But she wanted more of that taste, that thing so close to the heart of her. She leaned forward, kissed Rihanna's inner thigh to ask for permission, and Rihanna again pushed two fingers into her cunt, drew them out wet and glistening. She fed them to Leigh-Anne, let Leigh-Anne clean that raw open taste off her fingers, one after the other. "You like the taste? You're such a good girl, aren't you," Rihanna murmured, and it was her saying it that flipped a switch, and then all Leigh-Anne could think about was how much she wanted to come. Somehow, in that floaty space before, she'd managed to drift off, as if she were there just to give pleasure. But now she could think about it, remembered: her body. Her hard nipples, her swollen cunt. 

Rihanna smiled at her and drew her up to sit on the bed, brought her hands around to unlock Leigh-Anne's fingers. She reached down and drew Leigh-Anne's sheer dress off her head. Those clever fingers pet her shoulder, slipped down under her bra and pulled it off, and then, finally, found her nipple. Leigh-Anne whimpered, caught between the impulse of wanting to be good, to be quiet, and to moan aloud with what this was. A completed circuit, a near-release. Another woman's fingers on her. She pushed forward into Rihanna's body and Rihanna's hands were on her, strokes long and soothing. A voice murmuring in her ear. "Can I hear you?" she asked, and Leigh-Anne said yes with a whimper. No real words. 

She could feel Rihanna's breath on her ear. "Tell me what I'm doing," she said as her hands stroked down Leigh-Anne's body. "I want to hear your voice." Leigh-Anne couldn't gather her thoughts together to say anything, and then Rihanna pinched her nipple hard and she gasped and found words. 

"You're touching me," she said. Her voice was so shaky. "You're--touching my tits." 

"And do you like it?" 

"Yes." And then, louder, " _yes_!", one that trailed off into a moan as Rihanna kissed at her neck. Leigh-Anne whimpered, a noise she'd definitely never heard herself make before, and clenched her thighs together to relieve the pressure there. But then both the fingers and the mouth on her neck stopped. 

"You have to keep saying it," Rihanna said. There was a dark displeasure in her voice, a tone of warning. "Keep talking or I don't do anything." 

"You're--kissing my neck," Leigh-Anne said. She really didn't know if she could get the words out so smoothly. 

But Rihanna said, "Good girl," and the rich, curling approval in her voice spurred her on. 

"Your hands are on my stomach," Leigh-Anne said, and could feel the way her abdomen clenched at the contact. "They're--" her voice wobbled a bit, "--on my thighs, on my--ah!" Because Rihanna'd pinched the tender skin of her inner thigh lightly. It hadn't hurt, exactly; somehow the wires had gotten crossed somewhere and the throbbing just intensified the pressure in her cunt. Then Rihanna's fingers pressed at her cunt through her underwear, dragged across her clit, and what Leigh-Anne had meant to say was lost in a moan. She took in a deep breath. "You're touching my cunt." Rihanna's hands were so _good_ , was the thing, knew somehow what Leigh-Anne wanted. The texture of her underwear just added to how aroused she was. 

"You like being teased like that?" Rihanna said. She kissed Leigh-Anne's shoulder softly. Her lips were very plush and Leigh-Anne wanted nothing more than a kiss, but she didn't know how to ask.

"Yes," she said, voice going up into a whine as Rihanna teased at the opening of her pussy, playing with the material of her underwear and rubbing around it. She didn't usually take this much time with herself and it felt so fucking good to have someone paying this much attention to her that she wanted to cry. 

"You're doing great," Rihanna said, voice very low and soft. It was as she pressed at Leigh-Anne's clit that Leigh-Anne finally tipped over the edge, a rush and fizz spreading through her blood. It wasn't as hard as she usually came, but it'd been satisfying anyway. It would have been enough except Rihanna kept playing with her. She drew her hand back and slipped it into Leigh-Anne's underwear, just rubbing around her clit, not firm enough to hurt but enough that Leigh-Anne felt sweaty and overstimulated, whimpering with it. "Can you come again? You have to tell me." Just a stern enough tone to remind Leigh-Anne what she hadn't been doing: speaking.

"I can," she said. And then, face burning with the need to ask: "Can you put your fingers. In me?" It gained her a smile pressed to the curve of her shoulder. Then one, two fingers slipped into her, that dark core of her, the place that was empty, needed to be filled, needed attention, and curved up until Leigh-Anne saw stars, pushed her hips forward rudely, babbling into Rihanna's mouth--she'd gotten her kiss--ground her clit down on the heel of Rihanna's hand once, twice, thighs clamped tightly around Rihanna's fingers, and came so hard tears sprang from her eyes. Rihanna soothed her with small kisses, pressed on her face, her mouth, her cheeks, brought her down by stroking her shoulders softly with her other hand, until Leigh-Anne stopped shaking. Then she realised how tightly she'd been tensed, felt Rihanna's hand trapped between her legs, and sprang back and away with such a feeling of mortification that Rihanna started laughing. 

"No!" Rihanna said. Her clean hand reached out to Leigh-Anne to tug her back until they were sitting tipped together on the bed. The feeling of it was strangely non-sexual, just safe, comforting, even with the smell of sex in the room. Rihanna was warm, a furnace, and daringly Leigh-Anne pushed closer to her. They tipped back on to the bed. Rihanna smiled at her. Up this close her skin wasn't really as perfect as Leigh-Anne had thought. There were a few pock marks, a faded scar on the line of her jaw. Her eyebrows weren't perfectly done and her hair was a mess. Rihanna kissed her before she could think more. When she pulled back, they were both smiling. "Was that good?" 

"Yes!" The enthusiasm in her tone made her want to bury her face somewhere out of embarrassment but she settled for holding Rihanna's gaze and feeling warmth rise to her cheeks. "It--" she didn't want to say thank you; it sounded too mercenary, too crass, but she didn't know how else to express what this meant. The worries of the elevator ride up seemed so distant it was like they'd almost never happened. She'd felt so good being directed, being paid attention to like that. When people looked at her they almost never looked at _her_. That was what she'd gotten tonight. A direct gaze. It wasn't what she always needed but it was something she'd craved for so long she forgot what not wanting it was like. 

"It's late," Rihanna said, watching her. "You want to stay over tonight?" Leigh-Anne's stomach flipped. 

"Um," she said, wondering if she was red. "That'd be lovely, if I could. And, um--a shower?"

Rihanna's face broke out into a grin. "Of course." When Leigh-Anne got up she could feel how ruined her underwear was. Quickly she slipped it off. She didn't usually walk around naked but now she set off to the bathroom knowing Rihanna was watching her. After a moment, she could hear the sheets rustle as Rihanna got up, probably to follow. She felt a hand on her shoulder. They walked in together.

**Author's Note:**

> the posts that kicked it all off: [1](http://hotgaydumbledore.tumblr.com/post/139941583877/when-do-i-get-my-10k-leigh-annerihanna-light-ds) // [2](http://hotgaydumbledore.tumblr.com/post/139940794982/leighandperrie-saying-hi-to-rihanna-february). title from AlunaGeorge's I'm In Control. much credit for this fic's existence must go to Rachel [chilliad](http://chilliad.tumblr.com/) for yelling about this with me for so long that we basically outlined what happened above. u r great.
> 
> anyway I hope you all enjoyed this unbeta'd, unbritpicked mess. comments are very loved!
> 
> [reblog this fic](http://hotgaydumbledore.tumblr.com/post/140543345842/dont-you-know-i-want-it-all-67k-pairing) // [my tumblr](http://hotgaydumbledore.tumblr.com/)


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